Cookies and Milk
by specialsmiley1315
Summary: Sam and Dean return to the bunker late after checking on Kevin. Most people are asleep at this hour, so why does the place smell like cookies?


***Hey. This story is set after another of mine called, "It's Amazing What a Year Can Do." It can be read as a stand alone, but the other story gives more of a background about what happened to my OC, Aria Redford. Hope you enjoy!***

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**Winchester POV (General) **

Sam and Dean step into the bunker, giving a quick shake of their heads to expel the dripping water clinging to their hair. "I want a hot shower and eight plus hours of uninterrupted sleep," the oldest declares, shutting and locking the door behind his brother. Sam tucks his wet strands behind his ears with a soft laugh,

"Sounds good to me, man."

He starts for the stairs, but Dean grabs his jacket, jerking him to a stop. Immediately, Sam's senses go on high alert, searching the lit bunker carefully, ears perked for the slightest sound.

"Do you smell that?"

Sam sucks in a deep breath, a warm, delectable, chocolate scent settling in his lungs and making his mouth water. "Cookies?"

"Chocolate chip cookies," Dean clarifies as he steps around his brother and starts down the metal stairs.

The two drop their bags beside the command table and start down the narrow hall towards the kitchen. The sweet smell intensifies as does the bunker's temperature. An off-tune voice sings carelessly, drifting down the acoustic halls of the bunker. Dean shakes his head with an amused smirk on his lips, the two reaching the doorway of the kitchen.

"_Lady, lady, love me_

'_cause I love to lay here lazy_

_We could close the curtains _

_Pretend like there's no world outside_"

The brother's wear matching grins as they lean in the doorway together, watching their dear friend. She remains oblivious to the two of them as she continues to sing along to her stereo. Aria scoops up the sticky dough, rolling it between her hands and placing the perfect ball on the cookie sheet. The counter is covered in sweet delicacies. A platter of gooey brownies with a dusting of sweet white powder sits beside a heavily filled platter of crisp circles of heaven.

Aria is completely in her element, rocking back and forth to the beat of the music, continuing with her dough rolling. Her light brown hair is tossed messily upon her head leaning precariously to the side with wisps fanning her face. It looks like she rolled out of bed with her faded, oversized Phillies sweatshirt on, the sleeves bunched up at her elbows. She dances out from behind the counter, licking her cookie dough covered fingers as she carries the new tray of cookies to the oven, revealing short Hello Kitty shorts as her pajama bottoms.

Sam remembers how excited she got when she found the shorts. He made the mistake of going shopping with her a few months ago, and swears that the squeal that came from Aria that day was from an alternate personality. She's not the kind of girl to get excited over that kind of thing. Aria's rough around the edges, acting more like one of the guys then the girls they see at bars who are all made up. But what Sam remembers most distinctively other than that squeal was the way her green eyes lit up in pure joy, something that was hard to find with her after this last year.

The next song comes on and she starts humming, still oblivious to the two of them standing in the kitchen. Sam clears his throat loudly, giving her a warning before he takes the two steps down into the room. Aria jumps, reaching for the Berretta beside her and pointing it at them. Both brothers raise their hands in defense, knowing that the reaction was coming. Her shoulders slump immediately and she sets the gun aside, turning down the volume on the speakers.

"Sorry," she apologizes tiredly, a hint of frustration underlying the apology. Her gaze is focused on the dishes in front of her, battling internally with herself like she does most days. An inaudible sigh leaves her before she perks back up, throwing on a smile to cover up the mess of emotions she was just dealing with, "How's Kevin doing?"

The brother's share a quick glance with each other; both worried about their friend. "Kid's good. Boat's still secure and we picked him up some more supplies," Dean answers, leaning into the wall of the walkway as Sam settles at the table.

"I hope by supplies you mean some real food and not some processed frozen crap."

"Oh yeah. Sammy here got seven different tomatoes for the kid," Dean grins with a thumbs up.

"We told him to get some rest, take a break for a couple of days," Sam adds, answering the unspoken question she was thinking. Kevin means the world to her and if it wasn't for the fact that we need her help with hunts, she would be inside that safe house with him. He saved her life, and in Aria Redford's book that means she will forever be in his debt.

"He's set on getting that second trial translated," she answers numbly, starting on the clean-up, lathering up the sponge and scrubbing away at the dishes.

"Yeah, but he won't be any good to us if he runs himself down into the ground," Dean adds, pushing off the wall and moving to the counter filled with food, hungrily taking in all the sweet delicacies. He catches a glimpse of his watch, remembering his initial plans when he walked into the bunker. The watch reads 4:15 a.m. and for the amount of food laid out before him, he knows she's been up for most of the night.

"You haven't slept at all have you?" he questions roughly, letting that protective instinct take over. Aria shrugs her shoulders, continuing to scrub the dishes. "Do you even know what time it is?"

"Yes, Dean. It's late, butt crack of dawn late," she sighs, dropping the sponge in exhaustion as she turns to face us. "I tried everything to help me sleep, but each time I closed my eyes I was waking up in a cold sweat, tangled in my sheets, out of breath with only thirty minutes of rest to show for it."

Dark, almost bruising colors, paint the bags under her bloodshot eyes. Neither brother can remember the last time she slept all the way through the night. Most of the time one of them is racing into her room to stop her screaming. Her dreams are hell, a personally built one that she can never escape.

Sam and Dean each have their own nightmares, yet neither of them talks about it, ever. It's different for each of them and for Sam and Dean they aren't as frequent, but Aria's are still so fresh. They also dragged up old nightmares that now mix with the new, making her fear sleep. But even when she's awake she can't escape. The scars on the outside are all healed, faded to pale, thick, white lines on her skin, but they are still there, reminding her of the wounds on the inside that are still too new to deal with.

Sam catches sight of the darkened skin along her wrists and can't help the punch of guilt that hits him in the gut. He should have looked for her and Kevin, but he didn't. He ran, completely alone in the world, and started a new life, one that wouldn't get every member of his family killed. Dean beats himself up on the inside, still holding a grudge against Sam for letting this happen to her. Maybe he could of have escaped Purgatory sooner, stopped the torture before she lost herself.

Aria draws in a long breath, waving at the food in front of her, "So, instead of sitting around being stuck alone with the voices in my head, I baked." The oven timer goes off and she dries her hands quickly, snagging a pair of red oven mitts, and pulls out the fresh batch of cookies. "Kept my mind busy and, besides, my mom always said chocolate makes everything better," she explains, managing a weak smile.

It's not the smile that the boys remember, the one that made you feel as though the sun was shining down on you, but it's better than nothing. For all of Sam and Dean's life it has always been just them. They were all they had. Aria had nothing, no one. They took her in and gave her what she lost, a family. She was more than a friend, she was their sister.

Aria grabs both platters of goodies and brings them to the small dining table where Sam is situated. Dean's close behind, slipping into his seat right behind her like an eager little boy. He reaches for a cookie, but Aria slaps it away, "Not yet."

"What do you mean?" Dean cries.

"You need milk," she replies simply, opening the fridge to get the milk and grabbing three cups. She settles in beside Dean, a hint of pride in her dark green eyes as she looks over her work, letting the sweet chocolate scent fill her senses.

As soon as the gallon touches the table top, Dean is snatching up one of cookies, immediately stuffing half of it in his mouth. Aria and Sam shake their heads as she pours the chilled milk into the glasses. "What? The milk is on the table," the oldest brother defends, accepting his glass and downing two hearty sips.

"Fair enough," she comments with a shrug, plucking up a heavily powdered brownie. A poof of sugar blows off the top as she sinks her teeth into the soft gooeyness with a loud moan, "Worst craving in my life."

The brothers can only laugh, Dean nudging her shoulder in playfulness as they notice the tip of her nose covered in white. And that's how the rest of the night goes. The three eat to their content, teasing one another until they forget what it is they face tomorrow morning. Because the next day brings a new case, more people who have been dragged unwillingly into this painful life. But for right now, none of that matters.

Sam glances at the clock on the wall, noticing it is now 6:00 a.m. Dean's leaning on the table, rubbing his tired eyes with a belly aching groan. "I think I'm gonna be sick if I eat anything chocolate again," he moans. The younger Winchester only smirks. He warned Dean early on that he was going to regret all those cookies.

"Well, I think it's time for someone to get to bed," Sam says, drawing Dean's attention to their friend. Aria's past out with a chocolate chip cookie still clutched in one hand, the other wrapped around a half-empty glass of milk. A soft grin plays on the older brother's lips as he leans forward, waving his hand in her face before giving her shoulder a shake. The huntress doesn't budge, lost to the exhaustion plaguing her.

"She's out," he comments, pulling the glass and cookie from her grasp. Sam stands with a nod and lifts her up from her seat, cradling her in his arms like a bride.

The two walk the bare halls of the bunker towards her room, exactly half-way between both of their rooms. Dean opens the door for his brother and straightens the mess of blankets into some kind of order before Sam lays her down, covering her up. She doesn't stir a bit, both brothers watching with bittersweet thoughts. Neither of them ever wanted her to go through what she did, not after all that she has already suffered. But seeing her actually smile and laugh today reminded them that she's healing. It will be a long journey, but both brothers know, deep in their bones, that she's going to overcome it.

"Who knew all it would take were some cookies and milk?" Dean comments as the two leave, shutting the door silently, and leaving the baker to hopefully dream of something sweet.


End file.
